Amok Doc
by Meg F
Summary: Something's wrong with McCoy.
1. Default Chapter

Amok Doc - Part I  
  
Christine stared, shocked. She backed out of McCoy's quarters hastily, and stumbled over a pair of boots just outside the door, in the corridor. "Thank you most kindly!" floated out after her.  
  
The owner of the boots caught her easily around the waist, and stared into her face, concerned.   
  
The Captain. Of course it would be the Captain, she groaned internally.  
  
"Nurse Chapel?" he asked, hazel eyes worried. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Is everything all right, Miss Chapel?" Spock - Of *course* Spock's here too. It wouldn't be a proper nightmare otherwise - stood most properly behind his Captain's left shoulder, hands clasped behind his back.   
  
"Oh, Captain," she gulped. "It's nothing - I just -" To her horror, she dissolved into tears. Kirk's muscular arms came up easily around her back, enfolding her. She buried her face in his masculine shoulder, taking comfort from his strength. Kirk was much more touchy-feely than any other captain she'd ever had, but he was awfully sweet about it. And it was so *nice* to be able to fall into someone's arms, to know that he would do everything in his power to help her.  
  
"What is it, Christine?" he asked warmly, intimately.   
  
"It's Doctor McCoy," she sobbed. "He... was polite to me!"  
  
Kirk and Spock reeled in shock. Christine pulled back, wiping her eyes. "Doctor Dyson is sick today, so I had to ask him to start early. I thought he'd take it better if I told him in person. I took him some coffee to, to make it easier for him, and he didn't scream at me." She sniffled, then continued in a hushed whisper, "He didn't throw it at the wall. He accepted it and thanked me! And then, and then he told me I was a good person and too kind to him!"  
  
Kirk gasped. Spock's face became more implacable, carved from granite.   
  
"I didn't know what to do." She bit her lower lip, struggling not to cry again.   
  
"Nurse Chapel," Kirk said kindly, "I want you to take the rest of the morning off. Spock and I will take it from here."  
  
"Thank you, Captain," she said gratefully, and fled.   
  
"Wait here, Spock. I'll be out in a moment."   
  
They exchanged glances. "Be careful, Captain."   
  
Kirk called, "Doctor, I'm coming in," then he entered McCoy's quarters with every sense on alert.   
  
He expected to greeted by an unshaven, dishevelled, grumpy Doctor with the usual "Dammit, Jim, doesn't a man get any peace? I'm still in my skivvies!", but instead he saw McCoy in full uniform. Seated at his computer, sipping coffee.  
  
He turned to Kirk, smiling. "Hello, Captain. I'm catching up on the current mission. The bridge collected some very interesting data on the second planet last night. It's fascinating reading."  
  
Kirk stared. "You're... reading planetary surveys?"   
  
McCoy nodded. He said mildly, "Gets me in the mood for work, before I go off to Sickbay. You never know when you might need more information. You can never learn too much."  
  
"I see," Kirk's mind was racing. Something was horribly wrong with his friend. At a loss, he said, "Just a moment, Doctor," and backed out.   
  
Spock had the back of his tricorder open, running diagnostics. He looked up. "What happened?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Kirk answered, still thinking. Then his eyes lit up. "Spock, I have an idea."  
  
The door opened. McCoy came out, smoothing his hair. "Doctor, may we accompany you to Sickbay?" Kirk asked.  
  
"Of course," McCoy said politely.  
  
They stood in the turbolift silently. Kirk looked at his two friends. "So, Spock," he tried. "I hear you had trouble with Lieutenant S'Hassa yesterday."  
  
Spock gamely picked up the conversational ball. "Yes, Captain. She was listening to the music of W'Taral when she should have been working. I had to speak to her quite severely."  
  
McCoy didn't react.  
  
"Did she have an excuse for her misconduct?" Kirk prompted.  
  
Spock considered. "Apparently, she has had some family problems. I explained to her that she should either take compassionate leave, or do her work properly."  
  
Still no reaction from McCoy.  
  
Kirk's stomach felt hollow. "I believe her father died recently?"  
  
"That is correct," Spock agreed.  
  
Kirk made frantic 'forgive me' faces behind McCoy's back. "Perhaps you should have been more tactful - you pointy-eared..." He left a gap for McCoy to jump in, but McCoy simply stared straight ahead, face blank. "...computer," Kirk finished lamely.  
  
The lift stopped at Sickbay. McCoy exited with a civil, "Goodbye."  
  
"Bridge," Spock commanded. The two men looked at each other.  
  
"This calls for an experiment," Kirk said shortly, face like thunder.   
  
Spock raised one eyebrow. "Mr Chekov?"  
  
"Mr Chekov."  



	2. The Conclusion

"Do I really heff to do this?" Chekov groaned as he lifted his arms. Spock wound a long piece of grey cloth around Chekov's bare midriff.  
  
Kirk stared at him. "Yes." His tone brooked no disagreement.  
  
"Just checking." Chekov said, resigned. "Sir," he added for good measure. He'd fantasized about being naked with senior officers, but this wasn't quite the situation - or the officers - he'd had in mind.  
  
Spock clipped a small mechanism to the end of the cloth, fixing it all together securely, then pulled out his tricorder. He adjusted a dial on the mechanism. Passing his tricorder over Chekov's chest, he gave Kirk a cautious nod. "It seems to be working, Captain. The metal in this cloth is conducting the impulses from the device satisfactorily. Mr Chekov's life signs cannot be detected by a normal tricorder."  
  
"Good."  
  
****  
  
An ear-splitting shriek disturbed the serenity of Sickbay. Chapel looked up from her cataloguing. "Doctor!" she exclaimed, trying to inject the right note of believable distress into her voice. "What was that?"  
  
"I'm not sure, Nurse," McCoy replied, industriously scrubbing one of the biobeds. He dropped the sponge into the bucket. "There. That's the last one. Now I know they're really clean. Please stay here. I'll go investigate that noise." He gathered his medical tricorder and walked out.  
  
Kirk met him halfway down the corridor, out of breath. "Doctor! Quickly, we need you - there's been an accident." Kirk led him back towards the turbolift. Spock knelt on the carpet next to the open hatchway to the Jeffries tube. Chekov's limp body lay just inside.   
  
McCoy passed his tricorder over Chekov, then inspected the readings. His eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. Kirk and Spock watched in anticipation. McCoy scanned Chekov again, then sighed.   
  
"What's the diagnosis, Doctor?" Kirk asked, trying not to mouth 'He's dead, Jim'.   
  
"He appears to be deceased, Captain." McCoy said placidly. Kirk's shoulders slumped. "I'll check his pulse manually, just to make sure."  
  
Kirk placed a hand on his chest. "No. . . no, that's all right, Bones. He's not really dead."  
  
Chekov opened his eyes suddenly, and heaved in a great gulp of air. He gasped, "Finally! Thenk you!"  
  
"I see." McCoy looked at Chekov, then Spock, then Kirk.  
  
"I need to talk to you, Doctor," Kirk said finally, accepting the inevitable.   
  
McCoy noted, "I'm on duty, Captain."  
  
Spock offered, "I'll inform Nurse Chapel."  
  
Kirk nodded in agreement. "Come on, Bones."  
  
****  
  
"Now tell me what the hell is going on!"  
  
McCoy sat on Kirk's bed, legs crossed neatly at the ankles, hands clasped in his lap, watching Kirk pace.  
  
"Captain-"  
  
"Dammit, Bones, call me 'Jim'!"  
  
McCoy shrugged, a little bewildered. "All right. If you think it's proper. Jim, I'm afraid I don't understand exactly what you mean."   
  
Kirk threw up his hands. "Your *behaviour*, Bones. You've been pleasant and - God help me - logical, all day. You haven't ranted at one person - not one! You haven't been up on the bridge to gossip, or snark at Spock, or look over my shoulder. What's going on?"  
  
"Ah. I think I begin to see." McCoy took a deep breath. "Jim, you don't know what it's like for my people. I've struggled against my heritage for all my life. Trying to keep that thin veneer of Southern over-emotional ranting over the inner core of polite, rational civilisation - it's agonising." McCoy tried to look frustrated, but failed. He said mildly, "Though even now, I can't pretend to feel that. I can't do it any longer."  
  
"So what's happened? Why has this happened to you?"  
  
"It... has to do with biology, Jim."  
  
"Biology? What sort of biology?"  
  
"Mine. You see - I don't have any."  
  
Kirk stopped and stared. "You what?!"  
  
****  
  
"Set course for the Omicron Delta region," Kirk instructed as he exited the turbolift, face expressionless.  
  
Sulu raised his eyebrows, but said, "Aye aye, Captain."   
  
Chekov exchanged glances with Sulu. "Aye aye, Keptin."  
  
Kirk prowled the deck, watching over everyone's shoulders. He stopped when he reached Spock's station. Spock stopped working, and waited.   
  
"I know what happened," Kirk hissed. "And I'm very. . . pissed. . . off."  
  
****  
  
Lights twinkled and faded, leaving behind a chief medical officer, a first officer, and a highly annoyed captain.   
  
Kirk yelled, "McCoy!"   
  
Birds took flight from nearby bushes and trees, startled, but otherwise there was no answer.   
  
"McCoy!"  
  
A loud cough behind them. They spun around. A second McCoy stood there, unshaven, wearing a brown shirt and his Starfleet pants. "Hi," he said weakly.   
  
"Is it really you?" Kirk narrowed his eyes.   
  
Spock examined his tricorder. "It appears to be him, Captain."  
  
"I'm not sure which one I want to take back, now," Kirk said venomously. "This one," he indicated the one he'd brought, "is certainly a lot easier to work with."  
  
"He ran out of oomph, eh?" the second McCoy asked. "Oh well, I knew it couldn't last forever. Hard for him to maintain it away from the planet. And he must've done a good job of keeping you all away from him with a tricorder."  
  
The first McCoy nodded. "I performed excellently," he said proudly.   
  
The real McCoy patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks, son."  
  
Spock called the ship. "Three to beam up."  
  
Kirk looked at the robot version. "I suppose this is goodbye." He shot McCoy a 'later for you' glance. "The next time you want a holiday, you tell me first, okay, you pr-"  
The transporter cut him off mid-word.  



End file.
